Godric: Moonstone
by WednesdayMorn
Summary: It began with werewolves, and now, would it end with them? Eira certainly hoped it wouldn't. She and Godric weren't even married yet, and she'd be damned if a pack of mangy animals prevented her from getting her "happily ever after." [Part 2 of 2]


_Before you read this, you need to read the prequel:_ Home.

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"One week!" exclaimed Eira angrily as she paced the living room of her and Godric's Parisian penthouse. "Was that too much to ask for? Was wanting a few days of peace and quiet so hard to fucking compute? It's only _seven days_, Pam!"

From his place by the balcony, resting against the wall with one leg propped up and bent at the knee, Godric sighed contritely. He crossed and uncrossed his arms uncomfortably, keeping himself quiet and his head bent down to stare at the lustrous marble floor; unassuming and submissive, a radical change to the air of command that usually radiated from his being—but Eira was mad—no, she was _raging_, and when his mate was in such a state, he'd be a fool to cross her path. He knew his beloved well enough to know when she was on the warpath, itching for blood, and to try and calm her down while in the middle of a rant would be suicide. He needed to ease into it, to let her cool off on her own before attempting to talk her down from whatever powerful emotions were roaring through her body—there was **no** in-between. She needed to be 100% calm or else nothing would get through that thick skull of hers.

Eira was just too damn stubborn.

Three days into their little retreat away from all the chaos that had ensued in Dallas, Texas, away from _the Fellowship of the Sun_ and all that bullshit that had followed the church, already they were getting frantic phone calls, e-mails, and text messages from Pam. The blonde vampire with an eye for fashion was telling them that their presence was needed in Louisiana (_like yesterday_, she had yelled over the phone) because she couldn't handle all the shit that was suddenly happening:

The horned beast with poisonous claws that had attacked Sookie was a _Maenad_.

Said Maenad was dealt with immediately upon learning its motive and weaknesses.

Bill Compton was supposedly kidnapped.

Werewolves were becoming more of an occurrence in Louisiana.

And strangely enough, the Vampire Queen of Louisiana was involved in all this mess, but Eira was too livid to ask for details concerning Queen Sophie-Ann's involvement. She could care less what was happening in the States and had made it very clear to Pam, but Eric was in the middle of it all, and if Eric was involved then so were Eira and subsequently, Godric.

Regardless, it amazed Godric that so much had happened in the three days that he and Eira had left for their little holiday, but then again **many** odd things had been happening as of late, and he wasn't quite sure if he liked all this new excitement being suddenly thrust into his life. He knew that if he were human, the hair on his head would be falling out due to all the stress he (and Eira) were being put under, but oh well, small miracles, he supposed.

"Look, _Princess_," hissed Pam over the phone moodily, "I don't fucking enjoy ruining yours and Godric's little pre-wedding honeymoon, but you need to get that perky little ass of yours back to the U. S. before—"

"Before _what_, Pam?" cut in Eira, running a hand through her hair and tugging on it in exasperation, "Unless my brother is about to meet the True Death, then I am _not_ going to cut my holiday short just so I can help out in the search for William-_fucking_-Compton! And I don't care if Little Miss Sookie asked nicely for some help because believe me, I don't fu—"

"Eira," Godric snapped, pushing away from the wall he was leaning on. He liked it when Eira cursed, though they were not in the bedroom, and this was most certainly not one of _those_ times. He was also curious as to what was so harrowing that Pam just **had** to call. If it involved the Queen of Louisiana, then it must be important… though then again, knowing how petulant and vengeful Queen Sophia-Ann could be, maybe dear Pamela was just being paranoid over… _whatever_ it was that had her in a bind.

_If only Eira didn't interrupt Pam every chance she got then maybe I wouldn't only get snippets of a conversation_, thought Godric moodily.

"_What_?" spat Eira with spite, nearly snarling at Godric.

"Let her say her piece," Godric gently commanded, cautiously approaching Eira, "and then we will decide if our presence is needed in Louisiana at this very moment, or if we finish the rest of our holiday."

Eira was silent for a moment, her eyes narrowing into slits and a ludicrous feeling of betrayal shooting through her. She knew she was being stubborn. She knew she was acting like an ill-tempered child that wasn't being given what she wanted. Nevertheless, she had only asked for a week—seven days of rest and peace, seven days in which she could cut down from all the excitement and most importantly, find herself a wedding dress. She had already scheduled various appointments in various boutiques all throughout France, though it seemed that right now she would be leaving France ahead of schedule and without that one most important dress in all of her life.

That pissed her off more than anything did.

"Speak quickly and clearly, Pam," said Eira at last, enunciating her words with a harsh tone. "Tell me everything."

"I've been trying too, but you keep interrupting me!" snapped Pam, which elicited a disgruntled growl from Eira.

"Just talk."

"You bet your ass I'll talk," sassed Pam before recounting the events of three days past in explicit detail, though out of everything that was flying out of her mouth, only one thing made Eira nearly drop her phone in surprise and horror: _Operation Werewolf_.

"Say that again," muttered Eira breathily, one hand reaching out blindly for Godric as panic began settling in.

"Sookie did some digging. She managed to find out who—or rather _what_—kidnapped Bill. It was werewolves. All with that fucking brand on their necks. You know I wouldn't be calling you if Bill was just kidnapped by some dumbfuck redneck hicks, Eric and I can handle that, but this hits closer to home than I would have liked," said Pam with a sigh.

"Operation Werewolf," repeated Eira on the verge of tears, her hand finally connecting with something solid, which was Godric's chest. He had quickly rushed to her side, enveloping her in his arms and tucking her head underneath his chin.

"After all these years…" he muttered, a slight hint of awe and disbelief tinting his tone of voice. The last time he had found anything in regards to those werewolves was in Germany over 50 years ago…

"We need you back here, Princess," said Pam quietly, "this is suddenly your fight."

"One fucking week, "whispered Eira weakly, allowing tears to flow down her cheeks, "I just wanted _one week_…"

"I'm… sorry," choked out Pam, "but you know I wouldn't have called without a valid reason. Eric didn't even want me to tell you about this—he wanted to handle it all on his own, but I knew that you needed to be told about this shit… after what those fuckers did…"

Godric, knowing that Eira was in a state that would render her speechless, gently took the phone out of her hands and pressed it up to his ear, all the while gently leading her out of the living room and to the bedroom. He made the conversation short, simply telling Pam that they would talk more once he and Eira arrived in Shreveport within two days time. After that, he pocketed the phone and guided Eira to their bed. His mate needed to be comforted right now, and he'd be damned if he didn't let her know how loved and protected she was.

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**AN:** Be kind and review, please.


End file.
